


Thinking Of You

by wingedcatninja



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15.11 The Gamblers coda, Angst, Beka's Make Me Feel Challenge, Dean Angst, Dean Fluff, F/M, Fluff, I don't know what to tag this, it's just Dean musing while driving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:49:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22898284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedcatninja/pseuds/wingedcatninja
Summary: Since you met, Dean can’t stop thinking about you. Driving home from Alaska, that’s what he does.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	Thinking Of You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [@impala-dreamer](https://impala-dreamer.tumblr.com/) Beka’s Make Me Feel Challenge. Inspired by the song [Thinking Of You by Dierks Bentley](https://youtu.be/ansBJ9VA210).

It’s a long drive from Alaska to Kansas. I don’t mind though. My baby is purring, the road is empty ahead, and Sammy is snoring in the backseat. I could be completely alone in the world. And, as always lately, my thoughts turn to you.

You’re all I can think about. Your smile. Your eyes. Your strength and bravery. You don’t need anyone but you still choose to stay with us for reasons I’m not exactly clear on. You’ve seen me at my worst, and you still choose to stay. 

It’s a good thing the road is clear because your eyes are all I can see in front of me. The worn leather of the steering wheel reminds me of your hands; so capable of handling a gun or a knife, yet so gentle when caring for our injuries. I know you’re self-conscious about the callouses from a life of hunting monsters. To me, that’s just another part of you and I love it.

I wish you were here to share this road trip with me. I’d never admit it to Sam, but I actually enjoy watching the landscape go by. We’re deep into Canada, in some wilderness preserve or another, and I get the feeling there isn’t another human around for miles and miles. Since he fell asleep back there, I’ve seen moose, deer, and even what I think must have been a wolf. It was hard to make out from so far away. 

The wolf, if that was what it was, reminded me of you. Your strength of character and independence are just a couple of the things I love about you. And it reminded me of the first time we met; you saved Sam and me from a pack of werewolves. Sam almost got bit while I was pinned down and unable to help him. You charged through that door like an avenging spirit, putting a slug through the heart of each of the two remaining wolves, and saving our lives. I’m pretty sure that was when I fell in love with you.

Or it may have been afterward when you matched me shot for shot at the dive bar across the road from the motel. Or the way you lobbed each of my attempts at flirting right back at me without batting an eye. If I’m being honest, it was probably all of those. By the time we parted to go to our respective rooms, I was all in. 

Night is falling, but this far north dusk lasts for a long time. So many nights I’ve lain awake in my room, imagining you in yours. So close, yet so far away. 

It’s been a couple of years now since you moved in with us at the Bunker. I’ve seen you in the morning, hair disheveled, yawning, eyes barely open until you have your shower. Your favorite sleepwear is an oversized hockey jersey that covers you almost to your knees. I’ve never figured out if you wear anything under it. The sight of your bare feet against the cold tile floors always makes me shiver. I’m smiling now, thinking about our ongoing argument about coffee; you think it’s gross.

I’ve seen you in the evenings in sweats and a sloppy ponytail, cramming snacks into your mouth while watching some cheesy chick flick on Netflix. I’ve even joined you once or twice. With you, I don’t feel embarrassed about liking those movies. Even when you poke fun at me for it.

You never wear makeup. Your hair is usually gathered in a quick braid or bun, just to keep it out of the way. You never wear dresses, not even when you’re going on a date. You prefer biker boots to high heels. You’re completely comfortable with yourself and unapologetic about it.

Sam’s snoring lightly. The last remnants of his cold. The sound is another thing that reminds me of you. On the few occasions when we’ve had to share a room during a hunt, I’ve fallen asleep to the sound of your soft snores. At home, you have a special pillow that keeps you from snoring, but you refuse to bring it on hunts. Sometimes, you stop breathing for several seconds at a time. Each time, I find myself holding my own breath until your snores start back up.

The flirting is still going strong. I never can tell how much of it you actually mean, if any of it. Maybe you’re just having fun. Those nights when I lie awake, in the darkness of my own room, I let myself imagine, just for a moment, that you mean it. Dreaming up scenarios of what might happen. How it might feel to have your body pressed against mine, your lips on mine. Too many times I’ve fallen asleep to that dream. 

Sighing, I turn on the high beams, the light falling on the damp blacktop, illuminating the immediate vicinity and leaving the forest on either side of the road in darkness. A darkness that reminds me of the darkness inside me. The reason my dream will never become reality. I have no right to inflict that darkness on anyone else, particularly someone as special as you. Which is why my dream will never become reality, no matter how much it hurts.

I shake my head at my own pessimism, my snort almost wakes up Sam. We drive on through the night, my thoughts still on you, because I can’t help it. You’re all I can think about, and I have plenty of time. It’s a long drive from Alaska to Kansas.


End file.
